


Pact Equals War

by MoonStarDutchess



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003), Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Action & Romance, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Romantic Comedy, Blood, Drama, F/M, Mentions of Death, Rewrite from 2007, Rewrite from 2007 with a lot of new content and expansion, Romance, Romantic Comedy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2019-10-26 12:37:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17746034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoonStarDutchess/pseuds/MoonStarDutchess
Summary: Rated M for mentions of sex and cursing. A treaty forged on the land of the final battle of the Angels and Demons promised the joining of the two royal families to unite the two kingdoms. Known philanderer Prince Roy and angel pariah Princess Riza must navigate the ups and downs of an unwanted engagement, unexpected jealousy, stunning realizations, and a demon queen that will do anything to end the relationship no matter who is hurt and even if it means displaying her son's past ruthlessness for his fiancee to see. Rewritten from a fiction with my friend OTP in 2007.





	1. Prologue: The Pact of Belair

**Author's Note:**

> Rewritten and new 2019 content by MSD  
> Original by OTP and MSD  
> Disclaimer: We don’t own Fullmetal Alchemist and gain no profit from this fanfiction other than writing practice. We do own our plot and OCs.

The war between the angels and demons was a war that raged for generations. It wasn’t unusual for grandchildren to share war stories with their great great grandparents. They were true tales of horror, loss, and sacrifice. The two races fought until they forgot their reasons for fighting. There were hundreds of theories as to why they fought, but the consensus was that angels and demons were destined to battle with each other for reasons long forgotten by the annals of time.

Both races had come to accept that the fighting and death would never end.

Then, the man that had been king of the angels for centuries stepped down, his oldest son taking the throne. The new king began to carefully forge a possible peace treaty as the fighting carried on.

The king of the demons, a wily reckless man, was killed on the battlefield, and with that, his single heir ascended the throne. He too had long carried the intention to change his city from that of a battle-ready fortress to one of peace. But the war continued as he developed his plan.

Neither king had time to complete their goals. The angels and demons had managed to avoid the human realms since the war began, but with one slip-up, their war drifted into the human cities. Their homes were becoming battlegrounds, and their civilians were killed in the crossfire.

The neutral humans threatened to step in if they did not move their battle. Neither the demons nor the angels took them seriously, but still tried to limit their contact with the human lands.

But they failed. When they made the mistake of hitting the capital, the humans stepped in. What they lacked in skill they made up in sheer number and their reckless determination. The two warring races were unwilling to fight them since both sides had used up significant resources already.

Within the year, the war between the demons and angels was stopped and both races came to quickly see the humans were their saviors.

But that did not ease the tensions between the people of the demon realm of Gureinai and the angel realm of Atynos.

When the kings finally met at the site of the war’s most brutal battle, the earth was still scorched and death still lingered in the air. They agreed this site would be a permanent memorial of needless deaths and a reminder of the pain wars brought.

There on the grounds of Belair, the human king oversaw treaties of peace and vows of reconciliation of two races that were unsure if they ever held any civility. To seal this peace, in the years to come a child of each of the kings would marry, uniting the kingdoms with the blood of life instead of death.


	2. Pre-Wedding Flutters

Winry ran her hands along her waist and hips as she studied herself in the full-length mirror in front of her. She looked to the left and right to make sure no one else was in the room before she lifted her dress to her ankles to check, for the third time, that her flat shoes were fit for running. Despite the pushing from her handmaidens, she refused to wear heels for the elegant occasion just in case Ed decided to run away.

It wasn’t as if he didn’t want to marry her, he wouldn't have asked in his oh so indirect way if he didn’t. She knew he loved her, but he had an antisocial streak a mile wide and any gathering of more than their closest friends could induce a possible escape attempt. He’d sat her down and told her that if he ran, to catch him and tie him to a chair if she had to.

She lowered her dress and once again ran her hands down her sides, studying her shape with acute eyes.

“Why the hell are you frowning on your wedding day?” Winry used the reflection in the mirror to look at the door and saw Olivier walking in with her other sister Riza. She turned to face them when they stopped behind her.

“I have a question, and it’s really important. I don’t think the wedding can go on if I don’t get it answered.”

“Winry, I didn’t think anything would ever sway you from wanting to marry Edward,” Riza said. Olivier moved to Winry’s right and Riza to her left as she turned to face the mirror once more.

“It’s not that it sways me really,” she said.

“What’s the question?” Olivier asked.

After a tense pause for a few seconds, Winry finally asked, “Does this dress make my ass look huge?”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Olivier snapped as Riza placed a hand on her forehead and groaned. “That was not an important question, Winry.”

“Well, maybe not to you, but your ass isn’t going to be directly facing the congregation. I want them to be able to focus on more than a tsunami size ass.”

Riza chuckled and placed a hand on Winry’s shoulder as Olivier stood there fuming. “You look perfect, don’t worry. Ed won’t be able to move when he sees you, so those flat shoes of yours won’t see any running.”

Winry laughed. “So you know.”

“Yes,” Riza said. “And knowing the way Edward is, I agree with your decision.”

“Okay, you two,” Olivier said. “Time to focus.”

“This is a wedding, not a battle, Olivier,” Winry said.

“From my perspective it’s not much different,” she replied and picked up the veil from the table. “Time to get this pinned on.”

“And on that note, I’ll be going to make sure the groomsmen aren’t goofing off,” Riza said.

“Bless you,” Winry said. “Make sure Edward doesn’t run.”

“I’m sure Breda and the others are more than capable of that.”

“You sure about that?” Olivier said.

Riza paused. “No, no I’m not.”  

Winry watched Riza leave and her frown reappeared. “What’s the frown for this time, and it’d better not be regarding your ass,” Olivier said. She began pinning the veil onto the flower crown in Winry’s hair.

“It’s about Riza. She’s been acting quiet lately.”

“I’ve noticed it too.” Olivier fluffed Winry’s wings a bit to make them stand out more against the white feathers on her dress. “I asked her about it and all she said was she was feeling uneasy about her life.”

“Do you think it’s because of the wedding? She’s always wanted this more than us.”

“Riza does want to fall in love and get married, but I don’t think that’s it. I asked her to tell me the truth about what was bothering her, but she wouldn’t. You know how she is. She doesn’t want to burden anyone.”

Winry nodded. Riza was never one to reveal her feelings to people because she was afraid of hurting someone else. “I wish for once she’d think of herself.”

“You’re preaching to the choir,” Olivier said. “But you know how thick headed she can be.” She arranged the veil and took a step back. “Anyway, enough of that. This is your wedding day and Riza wouldn’t want you to worry about her”.

Winry smiled. “Right.” She turned a little to the left and right to see how she looked and her face fell.

“No more butt talk,” Olivier scolded.

“It’s not that,” she said.

“Then what is it?”

She bit her bottom lip for a few seconds, slightly smudging her lipstick. “Does this dress make my boobs look flat?”

 

**-/-/-**

She smiled at each person she passed but the majority of their faces remained stoic as they bowed out of obligation and went on their way.

“Nice to see you too,” she muttered. It was hard to force a smile for them and much less so when she felt such an odd weight on her shoulders. She knew both her sisters were worried about how quiet she’d been since Winry announced her engagement and probably chalked it up to that being the reason.

But it wasn’t. She was truly happy for Winry. In fact, the only thing that could make her happier would be if their older brother could be present for the festivities.

No, it wasn’t anything to do with Winry or her wedding. From the moment their father had gotten back from his yearly meeting with the human and demon kings, she’d been dealing with a shocking revelation that he’d dropped upon her. She was scared, nervous, and felt as if her body weighed more than the mountains themselves. There were times she was tempted to go see the soothsayer to find out her future and if she’d be happy in it, but she’d talked herself out of it. She didn’t believe in such abilities.

She’d tried to keep herself distracted by helping Winry with the majority of the wedding planning, but she couldn’t prevent herself from thinking on the matter. And the more she thought, the more the weight grew each day until this morning when the dread and heaviness became so great it lingered in every limb, caused an increase in headaches, and made her stomach queasy. In the next few hours, she’d do whatever she could to push the feelings back and not let them affect Winry’s big day. She wasn’t sure what she’d do afterward.

When she got to her destination, she heard several thumps and yells. The door to the groom’s room burst open. She flipped out of the way to keep from being hit.  

She landed gracefully on her feet and grabbed the dagger under her dress, thankful for the split at the side. Denny, Fuery, Falman, and Alphonse rushed out of the room and slammed the door behind them. Denny and Alphonse slouched against the dark wood, as Falman and Fuery slid down to sit on the floor. All of them were breathing as if they’d flown for hundreds of miles.

When they saw her, they all tensed. She looked at the dagger in her hands, and then sheathed it. They relaxed. “What happened? Did one of you call Ed short again? You know how he is with that. The last time it happened it took Olivier and Winry two weeks to convince my father that he was mentally stable.”

“No-No,” Fuery said and took deep breaths as if oxygen were some endangered resource.

“Did you play a prank?” she asked even though Edward wouldn’t get furious over a prank. He enjoyed them even when he was the butt of the joke. They shook their heads. She sighed. “Then what the hell is the matter?” She could feel an oncoming headache thumping behind her temples.

When they didn’t answer, she approached the door and placed her hand on the knob. She didn’t feel like asking any more questions, so if she wanted answers she’d have to go talk to Edward and calm him down if need be.

She looked up at Denny when he placed his hand on top of hers. “Please, Princess Riza, wait a while before you go in there.”

“It’s dangerous in there,” Edward’s brother, Alphonse said.

“Alphonse, I’m surprised at you. I didn’t think you’d ever be afraid of Edward’s temper. You never ran from him before.”

“It’s not his temper I’m running from.”

“Remove your hand, Denny. If you’re so fearful then stay out here.”   

She opened the door and when she took a step in, she learned what instantaneous regret felt like.

Her eyes widened and she had to force them from crossing when a strong scent shot out from the room as if carried by a brisk wind. If she hadn’t positioned her wings behind her, they might have molted right there. She covered her nose with her gloved hand and crept into the room.

Edward sat at the back of the room in a large chair. He was leaning forward with his head resting in his hands and his elbows on his knees.

“By heavens, what died and decomposed in here?”

Edward looked up and blushed. His stomach gurgled. “Last night’s dinner escaped me… strongly.”

“What the-”

“Flatulence, Princess Riza,” Denny said. The rest of the men walked into the room, all holding their noses. They lingered around the door just in case another outburst occurred.

She turned to them. “Flatulence?”

“Flatulence: a state of excessive gas in the alimentary canal. The slang term is to far—”

 "I know what it is Falman. Thank you though.”

"Yes, princess.”

She turned back to her future brother-in-law. "Edward?"

"Yes?”

She mustered up the calmest and kindest voice possible. "Did you steal a vulture’s carrion and eat it for dinner?” She heard the men behind her struggling to hold back their laughter. “This is the most unpleasant stench I’ve ever chanced upon.”

“I had spicy beans and cabbage last night from the castle kitchen.”

She wrinkled her nose. “That’s just as bad,” she said. “My suggestion is for you to expel as much of this gas as you can before you stand at the altar and wear a bit more cologne.”

His cheeks reddened. “Right.”

“With all the candles around you can be declared a fire hazard if you don’t,” Denny said.

Riza shook her head. How did she get herself into such ridiculous conversations? She should’ve push down her curiosity but she just couldn’t do so. She turned to look at Denny. “What does candles have to do with flatulence?”

“You don’t know?” Alphonse said. 

“Well, I wouldn’t have asked if I knew.”

 "It's not the candle, it's the fire," Denny said as if it made all the sense in the world. Riza's confused look didn't leave her face.

 "If you far—pass wind, in front of a flame it will make the flame shoot out,” Fuery said.

 "How long did it take you to think up that one?"

 "He’s telling the truth. You know the guard angel they call Charbroil?" Falman asked.

She nodded. “He was the angel that had his wings singed in the war, right?”

“It wasn’t from the war,” Denny said. He folded his arms across his chest. ”It was during the war though.”

“Well, the enemy did it. What does it have to do with flatulence,” she said, growing frustrated.”

“It wasn’t the enemy. It was friendly fire,” Falman said, earning a small chuckle from the other men.

“Once again, I ask you. War, flame, flatulence, what does this have to do with that guard?” 

 “His friends were testing the theory of methane from the ass and fire,” Denny said. “Charbroil was staring down at his friends ass as the other lit the match. The friend passed gas and—”

“Enough, I don’t want to hear anymore about gas and arses. Go to the wedding hall and wait for the wedding to begin.”

The men left the room without hesitation and she turned back to Edward. “Sorry,” he said.

“You have nothing to apologise for. Are you okay?”

He stood and slipped on his uniform jacket, the elegant white and gold garment making him appear much more mature. “I’m nervous, but I’ll be fine.”

“The wedding will flow without any problems. I’ll make sure of that.”

“Thank you, I don’t know what we’d do if you hadn’t helped us so much. Olivier and the king wouldn’t have agreed to our marriage without you intervening.”

“You don’t owe me any thanks. Just take care of my sister. That’s the most important thing.”

“I swear it. I’ll make her happy.”

Riza smiled while feeling slightly envious of her sister. “I know you will.”

 

**-/-/-**

Riza checked off another duty on her mental to do list as she walked to the area where Winry would enter the wedding hall. With every step, Olivier shifted like a toddler just learning to walk. She never could master high heels and would often walk around the castle in boots when she wasn’t required to dress up. She’d always pick flat shoes on days she was required to wear formal wear,

She tugged at the golden choker clinching around her neck and groaned. “I can’t wait for this to be over,” Olivier said. She stumbled and grabbed Riza’s shoulder.

“You could’ve worn a pair of flats. Winry did.”

“Winry had her heart set on these shoes for me even though they make me the size of a castle tower,” Olivier said. “I’ll wear them during the ceremony then get more comfortable ones later.”

“She had her heart set on those shoes only when she was going to wear them,” Riza said. “She told me we could wear flats.”

“You’re kidding?”

“No.”

“But you look awfully tall?”

Riza lifted her dress to her ankles to show that she was wearing the heels Winry initially picked out. “I’ve always been good at wearing these types of shoes, so it doesn’t bother me, but I can get you some flats.”

“I’ll deal with it for now,” she said and then muttered a few curses towards the heels with each step she took.

They were just at the doors when Winry came out the opposite one with her handmaidens in tow. She had a white-knuckle grip on her rose-filled bouquet but otherwise looked calm.

“Things will be fine,” Riza said. Winry’s head darted in her direction and she gave a nervous smile.

“Yeah, they will. Right? I love Edward.”

“Right,” Riza said.

“And Edward loves me.”

“Exactly,” Olivier said, even though Riza could hear a slight tinge of disgust in her voice.

“There’s my youngest girl,” a booming voice said. They looked and saw their delighted father approaching. “Are you ready?”

“Yes, father,” she said her voice now steady. Riza hid a smile. Their father always did have the ability to calm them. He’d been against the marriage at first, not because he carried a dislike of Edward, but because of their ages. As the engagement progressed and he got to know Edward even more, he came to be excited about his daughter’s marriage.”

Olivier and Riza took their places in front of Winry but behind the flower girls. The music began, and the doors to the wedding hall opened.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: The charbroil thing was a nod to a friend of mine that passed away back before this story was written. We called him charbroil because he lit a fart in the cab of a truck at night and it actually flashed much more than it should. When he got out of the car, the entire back of his pants were blackened. The most hilarious thing I've seen. I remember when OTP and I were originally writing this scene, it was just to make a joke, but I left it in not only because of my friend but because I thought it would be a good way to show Riza's reactions to certain events and show her own sense of humour. And I honestly love fart jokes no matter how old I get. 
> 
> There's not a lot of humour in future chapters, as the story is more fleshed out since last time and since the humor from last version didn't quite mesh with the seriousness. It is romantic though. More so than last time. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed the chapter. *hearts*


	3. Reception Begins

Riza studied the faces of the guests and was pleased to see everyone seemed to be having a good time, but the true satisfaction didn’t hit her until she saw Winry and Edward laughing at the main table. The ceremony had occurred without any major or minor incidents of which —she held back a laugh—included those of a flatus nature. The reception would only be a few hours more, and it was reasonable to expect that this part of the celebration would go just as good as the hymeneals.

After this, she was going to go to her room, take a long, hot bath, and find a way to address her constantly brewing emotional issues and her upcoming departure from the castle. She knew she hadn’t hidden her tense state completely from her sisters, but they didn’t realize just how many times she thought about hurling herself off the balcony. She never came close to actually doing it. She wasn’t at that point yet. She’d probably end up flying by instinct or her wings would catch the air and set her down with a bruise or scratch to symbolize her stupidity. Besides, the wedding was pending at the time, and doing that would’ve definitely messed things up.

Her lips quirked. Or they’d celebrate her death with an even bigger party.

She took a glass of wine off the tray as a waiter passed, walked over to the main table, and took a seat near the end where the bride’s part of the wedding party sat. She allowed her posture to slouch slightly, but to anyone looking at her it would be as stiff and prepared as always.

“Everything went perfectly,” Riza looked to her left as Olivier sat down next to her. “You planned all of this in a few months and it’s by far the prettiest thing I’ve seen in the castle.”

Riza let a small smile cross her lips. All the purples and yellows were one-hundred percent Winry’s taste. She’d grimaced when Winry mentioned the colours, but they’d turned out much prettier than she thought they would. But she still hated purple and intended to shove her current dress to the back of her closet once she took it off.

“Winry likes it, that’s what matters,” Riza said.

“I think I’ll have you plan the royal banquets from now on. I couldn’t do nearly as well as you’ve done with this.”

Riza was thankful she wasn’t the heir to the throne. She already felt too much pressure as is. The angel citizens wouldn’t have accepted her anyway. They would’ve screamed until someone else was chosen. ” She looked down and cringed. Though she wasn’t defecting, the rest of the statement set her on edge. She felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up.

“You okay?” Olivier asked.

Riza forced a smile. “Yes, I just got lost in a thought for a moment.”

“About the war?”

Riza nodded. She hated to lie to Olivier, but now wasn’t the time to reveal the truth as of yet. It was forbidden for Olivier to fight in the war, even though she’d wanted to join their brother, her twin, on the battlefield. She was the oldest so she was the heir and had to be protected. Winry had been too young to fight

Since no one cared, other than her family, what she did, she’d gone to fight for a short time before her father called her back to the castle. She’d killed a few demons before she’d returned home.

The entire war was foolish and she regretted going to fight. Though they were the enemy, each death still haunted her if she didn’t keep herself busy. She lost her brother, and saw some of the first friends she’d ever made, massacred. She knew the pain in that, so to be the cause of that pain for someone else ached inside her and blighted her soul with a darkness she could never rid herself of.

Because of her experiences, she was able to hold back her emotions much better than her sisters could. She’d learned to be indifferent. To hide everything behind a mask. Very few things could rattle her composure. Olivier showed her emotions through anger and never cried, at least not in front of anyone. Winry was more varied and showed her emotions through anger and tears.

When her father told her about the plans for her future, she’d accepted the news with a brief, but not very sincere, protest. She just felt resigned to her fate. The dread had come the more she thought about it.

 She could already picture Olivier and Winry’s reactions to the news. Fortunately, Winry wouldn’t be here. It would be harder to leave with her sister’s tears present at her departure.

“I should’ve been there,” Olivier responded. It took Riza a few seconds to grasp that the older angel spoke more and what she was referring to.

“You were right where you needed to be during that time.”

 “I sometimes wonder.” She gave a soft smile, a rarity for her. “If our brother had been the oldest, would I have been the one to fight and die out there.”

“We have no way of knowing,” Riza said and took a deep breath. “Okay, enough of this. We don’t need to mope today. Winry might catch wind of it.”

“Yes, you’re right,” Olivier said and straightened. She nodded to the left. “Our father is about to give a toast, and you just know he’ll find a way to embarrass us in the process.”

Riza looked to the table just as their father raised a glass and tapped a knife against it to get everyone’s attention. The guests all turned their attention to him and quieted. “As father of the bride, who all of you know is my **_youngest_** daughter, I welcome you to the castle and they welcome you to their nuptials.” At the emphasis of youngest, Riza stayed calm but Olivier twitched. “I never expected that my **_youngest_** daughter would get married **_so young_** and have chosen to marry such a wonderful **_young man_** at her age. “

Riza heard a crack come from under the table and bitterness filled her before she could push it back into the recesses of her mind. It wasn’t even the youngest comments that got to her, but the choice ones. She gritted her teeth and focused on the wine in her glass.

“Riza?” she heard Olivier whisper as their father continued to speak.

“I’m fine,” she said. “Just focus on father before he notices you aren’t.”

“It's not that I thought she couldn't do well, not at all, I just thought as my **_youngest_** daughter, she wouldn’t be able to find a suitable man so soon. I had a hard time accepting it, so I would like to apologise to both of you,” he said, directing his attention to Winry and Edward. “I was wrong. I would just like to say how proud I am to accept Edward as my ** _youngest_** daughter's husband.”

As the king continued speaking something about the joys of marriage and importance of choosing a mate, Riza found herself gripping her wineglass so hard that a slight crack appeared in its bottom.

Olivier grabbed her hand. “Riza, let go, you’re going to break it. You know it’s not proper to break things like this?”

“Oh, then does that apply to the heels on your shoes,” Riza said referring to the crack that came from under the table just second before.

“That’s different.”

“How is that different?”

“Oh, father’s finished his speech,” Olivier said, redirecting her gaze.

"I’m not stupid Olivier. Don't think you can change the subject. I am not easily distracted."

The older sister straightened in her seat and folded her arms. “At least my broken heels were done under the table.”

Riza growled. “I heard that.”

“I meant for you to.”

“Then why’d you mutter?”

Olivier’s face turned serious. “It’s not like you to get angry. Does it have anything to do with your standoffishness lately?”

Riza sighed. “I’m allowed to get angry.”

“Allowed, of course, but you rarely show it.”

“Hm.”

“Answer my question,” she said.

“Olivier, not right now.

“How did you like my speech?” the king said when he approached the two. They shot glares at him and he took a single step back. “I know, I know. I pushed the young thing a little.”

“Just the young part?” Riza snapped. Olivier’s eyes widened when looking at her and then looked at their father and narrowed them. “Something is going on,” she said.

“I’m sorry, Riza,” the king said sincerely. I wasn’t thinking and didn’t write a speech down. I didn’t mean to imply what you think I did.”

“It’s fine, forget about it,” she said.

“No, something is not fine. What is going on?” Olivier asked. “Stop ignoring me.”

“Come dance with me,” the king said. “I have something to discuss with you.”

Riza raised an eyebrow. He wouldn’t tell her now would he? Not here.

“Fine,” she said with a groan and stood. “Heel toe are the first steps right?” She walked around the table.

Riza withheld a smirk. “Good luck with the heel part.”

She earned a glare from her sister but spotted a slight grin on her lips. Olivier walked onto the dance floor with their father.

 

-/-/-

Riza stood and downed what was left of her wine, before walking closer to the balcony behind her to get some fresh air. The smell of lilacs, Winry’s favorite flower, around the room was almost suffocating in their potency.

She took a step out of the doorway before she heard her name mentioned.

“It’s hard to believe Princess Riza really did all of this for our Winry,” a female voice said with a haughty tone. “I don’t know if I would’ve come if I knew she was going to be here though.”

Another one chimed in. “Of course she was going to be here. She’s a princess too unfortunately. Winry is obligated to invite her own sister after all the work she did.” She sniffed. “I suppose she has to have some talent to make up for those terrible eyes and lack of purpose.”

“Ugh, no amount of talent can make up for shit colored eyes,” another said, earning laughs from the rest. “Too bad it wasn’t her instead of her brother that died in the war. That way our royal family would be nice and pure.”

Yet another spoke. “You know the rumors are that the queen had an affair.”

“Well, she did run off. Who’s to say she didn’t?”

“Girls, that is old news.” Riza heard someone shift and took a step further back. “I heard she’s just as bad as her mother. That she has so many male friends because she spreads her legs like a common human whore.”

Riza made a fist at that. She’d been with two people. One turned out to be an angel asshole. He’d only done that with her to brag he’d fucked a princess. Unfortunately, for him, and fortunately for her, he didn’t get a chance to brag. A demon decapitated him thirty minutes later. The other was a human. It was nice but they didn’t quite have the stamina of an angel or demon. And she couldn’t deal with their short life spans. To have someone only to lose them and have to live on for hundreds if not thousands of years would be terrible. He was good about it and there were times she pitied their loss of contact.

She stepped back inside. She should’ve gone out there and demand they leave, but she wouldn’t do that. They were loyal to Winry even if they disliked her, and she didn’t’ want to cause a scene. Instead, she moved to an open window to get some air. She sat down in the window seat and stared out at the evening sky.

Who was she kidding? She knew based on experiences that even if it weren’t Winry’s special day, she’d just ignore their insults and lies, or sit and take them. She’d been raised to do that. Her tutors had always told her she was overacting and being thin-skinned. They’d always make sure to turn every issue onto her. Make it her fault somehow. They’d mention her so-called “oddities” in a passive aggressive way that she hadn’t recognized until she was older. In many ways, that passive aggressiveness was worse than the direct approach that most others took when her father and sisters weren’t around.

People barely tolerated her and they let her know it anytime, anywhere, and in any way, they could. She placed a hand on her stomach, feeling the queasiness as the many instances of being bullied came through her brain. She closed her eyes and pushed them to the back of her mind to join the memories of her time fighting.

She walked back over to the table and sat down. She took Olivier’s glass of whiskey and took a small sip even though she was tempted to gulp it down. The group from the balcony walked past her. She had to resist rolling her eyes when they bowed slightly when they saw her. It was kind of amusing in a way because she knew it killed them to have to show her any respect. She watched as they faded into the guests celebrating.

She looked at everyone dancing and talking. Though she could easily find someone she considered friends, and who felt the same for her, the groomsmen being a few of them, she felt isolated.

But that wasn’t necessarily a terrible thing. After all the years growing up in the castle, isolation was an old friend of hers.

And in the future, she’d likely become even better acquainted with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> About 90% of this chapter is all new content and wasn't in the original version. Hope you enjoyed it!


	4. Reception's Revelation

Olivier fell into step with her father a few seconds after they went out on the dance floor. She didn’t like leaving Riza alone during things like this, even though at times it was necessary. Riza tended to take care of herself just fine and did much better than she did at parties, but with her current personality changes, it worried her to leave Riza to herself for too long.

“Are you and Riza getting along all right?” the king asked.

Olivier was taken aback by the question. When they were together, they were the same as they’d always been. Riza was the type that she could savor the silence around one moment, and they’d banter the next. “You aren’t worried about that little tiff are you?” she asked. “We always do that. It comes from affection.”

“No, that has nothing to do with it,” he said. “I wondered if you’ve seen any changes in her lately and if that has affected your relationship.”

Olivier furrowed her eyebrows. “It hasn’t affected us any when we’re together, but she has been keeping her distance with us lately. She’s quieter and tends to drift into thought a bit more often than usual. She’s been doing so much for Winry with the wedding and doing the parts Winry hates. We thought it might be stress from that.”

“I see.”

“Maybe if we pinpoint the issue we can help her fix it.”

“It began after Winry’s engagement,” he said. “It first started when you and Winry went to that meeting in my stead.”

“Which I still don’t know why you sent us to. It wasn’t anything you couldn’t have done by letter.”

“There were reasons.”

“You know what’s causing it, don’t you?”

“You mean other than the usual reasons?” She noted how bitter he sounded at that. The song ended and another began. It wasn’t like her father to talk this deeply when dancing. Usually these types of conversations occurred behind closed doors.

Her frowned deepened at what he said. It was unfair the way people treated Riza over an eye color. Every single one of them thought Riza stunning when she was born, but as soon as her eyes changed, as so many angels’ eyes do, it was as if she had some kind of disease. All angels had blue or green eyes. There had never been a full-blooded, brown-eyed angel.

She gave birth to Riza and had the nerve to disown her as if she were a monster. At least her mother wasn’t flagitious enough to let her starve and fed her. She didn’t once look at Riza as she fed and would often make faces of distaste. With Winry there was nothing short of admiration.

Their mother left when Winry was old enough to eat on her own since she didn’t want her precious losing her title.

After their mother treated Riza the way she had, she refused to see the woman and their late brother never ceased to tell her how he despised her. She’d been angry with Winry at first for keeping contact with the bitch, but couldn’t stay mad. She hadn’t seen the way their mother treated newborn Riza. She didn’t know the kind of woman she really was.

Eventually, their mother treated Riza poorly to the point their brother got so fed up he scoured the land until he found an unprejudiced wet-nurse for her.  

Olivier fumed thinking about their mother and was thankful that since the divorce she was not allowed in the castle. Her father once said that after Riza was born he saw the true soul of the woman he married, and it was not a soul matched for him any longer. She banished her from her thoughts and focused on the situation with Riza.

“Maybe someone said something particularly brutal to her. You know how she is. She’ll ignore it even though she can order them to be punished. “

“I’ve tried my best to make things easier for her, but, short of making threats, I can’t stop what people say when I’m not around.”

“And that would only make things worse for her. They’d whisper behind her back even more than they already do.”

He sighed. “Riza won’t have to deal with it for much longer,” he said. “Though I know things will be slightly better, I don’t know what other challenges she’ll face.”

“Meaning?” Olivier asked.

“Have you two talked about marriage?”

She hated when he avoided her questions, but figured he was going somewhere with this. But if he wanted to play that game, she could too. “We’ve been helping Winry, so of course we’ve talked about marriage.” She almost laughed when he looked at her with frustration.

“I meant your own weddings.”

“You know I have no intention of marrying,” Olivier said, “but I can infer that Riza would like a husband and kids someday.”

“Infer?”

“She stays very quiet on the topic.”

“Is that so?” the king said, sounding displeased.

“Riza is a—Let’s face it, father. No one wants her and we both know it.”

“Olivier that’s—”

“Realistic,” she snapped. “And I hate that it’s the case too. We can’t deny for a second that men would be lining up to court her if she had blue or green eyes.”

“There could be an angel out there somewhere that sees her for her personality. Or a human even,” he said, though he didn’t seem like he was trying to convince her or himself of that. It was just a statement.

“It’s not hopeless, but it’s unlikely she’ll ever find anyone. I know she’s been involved with two people, she let it slip that one was a human but beyond that she’s kept quiet about it.”

Riza had given Winry advice about sex as well, but she wouldn’t tell her father that much. She’d been shocked to know that Riza had lost her purity a while ago, so she could only imagine her father’s reaction. “She could win someone over so easily, but we angels are so vain.”

“And even being princess isn’t enough for them,” he said.

“Riza wouldn’t want anyone who liked her just because of her looks or her being a princess anyway,” Olivier said. “The controversy is enough to keep people away even if they are attracted and curious about her.”

“She is my child,” he said. 

She was surprised at his stern tone. “I know that,” she said. “Just looking at her is enough to see it. Anyone that says otherwise is an idiot. Even if we discovered she weren’t, she’s part of this family.”

“She’ll…” Her father sounded like he was pained by speaking the word. “She’ll be a part of another family soon, Olivier.”

“What do you mean by that?” she said, trying to ignore the fear building in her.

“She’s been betrothed to someone. It’s been a while since it happened, and I was hoping to avoid it altogether if possible.”

“And she knows this?” Olivier stopped dancing and everyone around them paused. She hadn't realized how loud she’d spoken.

“Olivier…”

“Does she?” she said, even louder.

She felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to see Riza. “Be quiet. You’re causing a scene,” she whispered.

Olivier wanted to grab her and shake her right there. How could Riza keep this a secret from her sisters? “You know?”

She took Olivier’s arm. “Let’s go to your study after the reception.”

Olivier glared at her father before turning on her heel and going over to the main table.

 

**-/-/-**

 

Riza cringed as all eyes were on them. She’d been watching her father and sister dancing and noticed Olivier about to lose a bit of her composure during their movement. When they stopped while the music was still playing, and then when the music stopped, she had a good idea what had happened.

“Everyone! Continue dancing!” The king ordered. The music started playing once more and the people hesitantly started dancing again.

Riza and her father walked off the dance floor and to the main table. They stopped near, but not too close to an angry Olivier. She had a glass of whiskey in her hand and occasionally muttered something they couldn’t make out.

“You just couldn’t wait,” Riza said.

“I don’t know what I was thinking,” he said.

“You weren’t thinking.”

He nodded. “I’ve not exactly been thinking clearly since I got back.”

“You and King Kaiten did what you thought was good for everyone. I get it.” And it was the truth. She knew enough about deals and alliances to see the benefit of her father’s bargain with his fellow king. She didn’t like it, but she understood. “I’ll explain to Olivier later. She might accept it better coming from me.”

He nodded. “Thank you, lovely,” he said. “You always did know how to handle Olivier’s temper better than I.”

“What’s going on?” Winry asked, moving to stand at her father’s right.

“It’s not important,” Riza said with a genuine smile. When Olivier huffed, she withheld the urge to shove the bottle of whiskey on the table her down her throat.

“If it has Olivier yelling it certainly is important,” Winry said, losing her temper on a smaller scale than Olivier had, but carrying the same spark in the eyes.

“Is it really? You know Olivier has had a hair-trigger temper as of late. We did tell her something she didn’t like, but it’s not an important issue right now.”

“Fucking liar,” Olivier said, this time it wasn’t a mutter but it wasn’t a yell either.

Winry looked at Olivier then back at her. “Riza, I’m not a child. If something is happening that—”

“Winry, there are some things that don’t involve you,” Riza said, this time being slightly sterner with her younger sister. She could tell her tone caught Winry off guard. She rarely ever altered from her normal speaking voice when speaking to her. She sighed. “Please, Winry, drop it and don’t worry.”

“How can I not worry when it’s upsetting you and Olivier?”

Riza smiled at her. “I’m not upset.” Riza said. The only thing that had her annoyed was Olivier’s behavior. “And Olivier will get over it.”

Riza spotted Edward across the room. He was alone and searching the room, likely for Winry. He looked nervous. Throw him into a battle to the death he'd be cool and collected. Well, unless the enemy insulted his height, but that was neither here or there. Even in those circumstances, he was one of the best fighters in the angel realm. These events turned him almost timid in nature. At least when Winry wasn’t around.

When his eyes fell on them, she motioned for him to come over. Then she gestured to Winry with a serious look and then motioned toward the dance floor with her head. Edward nodded and walked over. Thank goodness, he wasn’t as dense as some of the men that courted Winry in the past.

He wrapped his arms around Winry and whispered for her to dance with him. She was hesitant but followed him out to dance. Riza knew she couldn’t resist Ed asking for that when he was so hesitant in dancing normally. She felt bad for using him for keeping Winry in the dark, but it was to keep her happy day intact. If Winry knew what would happen while she was gone, she would insist on postponing the honeymoon.

“That was so low of you,” Olivier said.

Riza was tired of all of this. If she wasn’t trying to ignore the verbal stabs made behind her back by the other angels, she had to deal with Olivier’s temper and Winry’s worry. She’d wanted to keep things quiet for as long as possible, perhaps even leave the realm before both her sisters found out, but she saw that wasn’t going to happen.

“It would be even worse if I ruined her day, like you almost did by being an unreasonable bitch before you know all the details with the situation,” Riza said.

Olivier exhaled heavily but said nothing in response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like the last chapter, I would say a good portion of this is new stuff. Around 95% of it. Especially the stuff about her mother. Hope you liked the chapter!


	5. Deliberate Aloofness and Unintended Cruelty

Winry hugged her father and Olivier and then stopped in front of Riza. She leaned forward and whispered. “We’ll talk when I get back?” Riza heard the hope in her sister’s voice and a stab of guilt hit her again. Winry hugged her.

Riza nodded even though that wouldn’t be the case. Winry would be furious with her, but it couldn’t be helped. A group of girls approached Winry to hug her. It was the same group outside on the balcony that had badmouthed her earlier that evening. To Riza’s surprise, Winry stepped back and narrowed her eyes. She motioned with her hand and two guards came forward. “Get them out of the castle. You aren’t to ever come back and see me.”

The girls protested as they were led away.  

“Winry?” Olivier asked. “What’s that about?” Those girls had been around Winry since they were children.

She smiled at Riza. “I heard what they said. They’re no friends of mine.”

Riza nodded but didn’t smile. She didn’t want Winry to lose people because of her, but then again they were probably saying and doing terrible things behind Winry’s back as well. But was she much better? She was going to leave without telling her. Perhaps she would regret letting those friends go once she found out.

The rest of the guests surrounded them and waved goodbye as Edward and Winry got into the carriage to go to their honeymoon. They’d be dropping by Winry’s mother’s home for a few days after the honeymoon, so her time away would be extended. Extended enough to make her departure, which she’d decided would be better to do sooner than later, much easier.

Riza and Olivier left the small gathering outside and walked into the castle. They walked into the hallway and a group was gathered beside the door to the reception hall. They formed a circle and were deep in conversation so they hadn’t noticed she and Olivier walk in. They started to walk by the group but Olivier froze as soon as they were within hearing range of their speaking. They didn’t even bother whispering.

“The wedding and reception was stunning, but it would’ve been much nicer if Princess Riza hadn’t caused a scene.” Riza heard it as well. As usual, she was being blamed for something someone else did.

“It would be better if she hadn’t shown her face at all,” another said.

Riza gritted her teeth. If she hadn’t come, they would’ve groused that she didn’t love her sister enough to attend. She couldn’t win with these people and had stopped trying years ago.

Olivier took a step, clearly intending to berate the rude guests. Riza grabbed her arm. “Olivier, I’m exhausted and the last thing I want to do is help you hide a body tonight. Besides, I’d be blamed for it even if you admitted to it. Just let it go.”

“No! I’m sick of them thinking they have the right to—”

Riza tugged at her arm. “We have something extremely important to talk about, remember?” Riza said.

Olivier glared at the group of angels. “Fine,” she muttered.

**-/-/-**

 

Olivier’s office was a minimalistic room that reminded Riza of the snowy mountains in the demon realm. She adored it when snow coated over the city and would use any free time to walk in it, so it didn’t surprise her that the office had that simple sort of theme.

But white and grays were stark and it was challenging for anyone other than Olivier to be comfortable in the place for very long. It was probably something else she intended when decorating the room. She always did value her personal space and alone time.

Riza heard the door shut behind her, and Olivier walked over to her desk. She moved behind it as if she were about to give battle orders rather than talk with a family member. The map that loomed behind her would make her look intimidating to anyone that was already afraid of her, many people were, but to her it was just her sister trying to be scary. She’d never been afraid of Olivier.

“Is that fucking betrothal the reason you’ve been so distant lately?” Olivier didn’t raise her voice but it was clear she was furious. Not at her, but at the situation itself. “Betrothed,” she spat. “How long have you known about it.

“Since father came back from his meeting in the demon realm,” Riza answered.

“You…you’ve been dealing with it that long?” She’d never seen Olivier look so distraught. While the situation wasn’t ideal, she never felt as if she were walking towards her own doom. She’d met demons during the war, one in particular saving her life when he didn’t have to. Despite fighting and killing them, she never thought them below her or evil. They were just the enemy fighting for, or against, the same things they were. Whatever the hell that was.   
“Olivier, it’s…”

“How the hell aren’t you upset?”                                              

“I am,” Riza said, raising her voice when Olivier did. She took a deep breath and spoke back in her normal tone. “At least I was at first. In fact, I was furious.” Even that strong word was an understatement. When her father first told her about her part in the Pact of Belair, she thought she would be the first princess in the history of the royal family to commit patricide.

“At first…” Olivier’s voice was now lower as well but filled with disgust and anger.

“Yes, I thought about it, learned what was behind the betrothal, and then after yelling everything I wanted to say, I accepted it.”

“Just like that?”

Riza nodded. “Yes, just like that. I dread it, I hate having choices made for me, but I know father had good intentions. It’s something I can’t change.”

“I can’t believe you’d just give up and give in like this. You’re stronger than that.”

“I’m strong enough to give in because it’s the right thing to do.”

“Right, thing…” Olivier took a deep breath. “You’re a fool, and I won’t let you do this.” Her authoritarian tone irked Riza. She was a grown woman and did not bow to her sister’s orders.

“You don’t have a choice.” She opened her mouth to tell Olivier the details behind it since it was clear she didn’t know. Unfortunately, she didn’t get a chance.

Olivier slammed her hands down on her desk. “The hell I don’t! I’m the future queen. Someone has to keep you from being a sacrificial idiot!”

“That’s right, you are the future queen. You have no authority over me right now!” Anger rushed through Riza and her calmness left her. “And you’ll be a shitty future queen if you interfere in this. Think of your people. Things have to be sacrificed.”

“Don’t tell me how to do my job!”

“Don’t tell me how to do mine!” Riza screamed in return. She’d never ever raised her voice this loud to Olivier.

“You just want to prove you aren’t useless like everyone says you are! Stop trying to get people’s pity!” Olivier replied but then she gasped as soon as she said it. Her eyes were wide and she shook her head. “Riza I…I didn’t…”

That barb dug into her heart. She was used to those statements from everyone else but to hear it from the woman who practically raised her from a child when she was but a teen herself, was worse than if Olivier rammed her sabre into her chest. Her knees and hands quiver and her eyes burned. She opened her mouth to speak but a bitter laugh came through first. She noticed Olivier step around her desk. She held up her hand and Olivier paused.

“Maybe that is it. It’s quite smart after all isn’t it?” Riza said and looked down at the floor. She reached back and placed her hand on the doorknob. 

“Riza you know I spoke that out of—”

 “Let’s be truthful, my loss to the angel realm isn’t significant. At least I can be a pawn for unification, right?”

“What? Unification?”

The words reminded her that Olivier still didn’t know the details, but she just couldn’t stand staying in that office with her anymore. She didn’t want Olivier to see her upset. She’d never allowed anyone to see that before, and she wouldn’t start now. Riza turned the doorknob. “I wouldn’t put it past father choosing me because of that.”

“Stop it!” Olivier said.

Riza looked up at her sister. “Just focus on your life and being queen, Olivier. Don’t let your emotions take control of you, okay,” Riza said. She turned and, ignoring her sister’s pleas, walked out of the office.

She kept an indifferent expression on her face as she walked towards her rooms. She ignored all the servants along the way and took the long way around to get to her rooms just in case Olivier decided to follow. When she got there, she was breathing hard but not laboriously so. She’d gone through a spectrum of emotions on the way to the other side of the castle. Anger, regret, and now extreme sadness hit her.

When she got into her room, she shut the door and locked it before sliding down, back against the wood, to sit on the floor. She lifted her knees up against her chest, and finally let go, burying her face against her knees and crying for the first time in years.

 

 


	6. The Demon City of Gureinai

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was not in the old version of this fic. Everything is new. I love writing Havoc and Breda. Breda is highly underused and underappreciated. King Kaiten is probably the most enjoyable OC I've ever written and he's very different from the old version of this fic because you'll get to see more of him. I took one some of Grumman's personality and some of Christmas's personality (what we know of either of them) smushed them together and then added a bit of my late grandfather's humor to him.

The city of Gureinai, which resided in the demon realm of the same name, was located atop several large mountains. It was high enough to be protected by both ground and aerial attacks. It took too much energy to ascend and that made it a stronghold during the war with the angels despite some possessing superior skills in flight and air manipulation. There wasn’t a way to quickly get troops up the mountain walking or on horseback either.

Unfortunately, this fact also meant demon soldiers at the bottom of the mountain could not retreat to the city. If they needed to hide, they made use of manmade caves and labyrinths nestled amongst the summits, winding canyons, and rocky outcrops.

Throughout half of the year, a thin layer of snow covered everything, but it was seldom unreasonably cold. Sometimes a frosty wind would strike, the clouds would gather just right, and they’d get a blizzard, but it only happened a few times per hundred years.

Summer lasted three months. The sun hit well above the mountain, lighting up everything with its rays except the castle. There were mountain peaks behind the castle that blocked most of the sun, so it remained cooler than the cities. The elevation provided a nice wind that whipped through the area enough to ease the temperatures.

Spring tended to be cooler than summer and had much more wind and rain. The drainage canals did an excellent job of preventing flooding, and the waterfalls provided the city and villages below the mountains plenty of water even during the hottest summers. Magic could be used if they ever dried out or failed, but manipulating nature to that point was something demons preferred to avoid.

There were three mountains, all connected by bridges at the top and a few tunnels near the bottom so they could exchange supplies. Each mountain had its own road inside it that led to its top. Most demons chose to fly across the gaps between mountains instead of walking.

The palace rested in the middle of the center mountain. It was massive and nearly rivaled the peaks behind it. Around it were gardens, humble forests, and a few smaller buildings scattered randomly along the grounds, all matching the dark castle.

Wide stretches of land with stables, training grounds, and lakes extended to the edge of the mountain. A large wall encircled the area and blocked any access to the grounds. Magic was used to keep out those who dared to try to fly over the wall without permission.

The castle was constructed of shiny black stone, and no one knew how the material got there to build it. No quarries nearby provided that type of stone. The overwhelming theory was that it was normal stone turned to what it was now. There were at least a hundred stories about the massive castle, so the truth was debatable.

Around the castle was a smaller wall of matching color. A guard sat at various towers dispersed in intervals along it. At one time, they would’ve been on high alert for any angels that managed to make it to the area or any weapons that may fall upon it.

Now, they looked bored. Some were dozing. Others were resting their chins on their elbows, staring out into the horizon or lost in daydreaming.

Jean Havoc stopped at the gate and stared up at the tallest tower that loomed directly over the entrance into the castle grounds. That was where the officer he was looking for should be if he followed his routine. He opened the door to the right, giving a slight nod to the guard standing there.

He took the stairs two by two and entered a small lounge where a bunch of his fellow officers sat playing a card game. They stood and saluted when they saw him, but he waved them off and they went back to their game.

He ran his hand through his hair before going up another set of stairs. He had a job to do, and though he was teased for being lazy with paperwork, and slightly mistrusted for being a half-blood officer, he carried out his duties with due diligence no matter how difficult or unpleasant they were.

And this pending mission was likely going to be a pain in the ass.

Havoc entered the office. He looked around and spotted his friend and second in command, Heymans Breda, sitting at the window. He had a strategy book in one hand, a large sandwich in the other, and his feet on the top of his desk. Havoc didn’t begrudge him his current break because, unlike the others, he actually had work to do.

But it wasn’t like there were many things for lower officers to do. The only reasons the guards currently appeared so useless was because there was truly nothing to be afraid of. A few weeks ago, the king made a comment, implying that the guards would have to go back to training. He hoped there wasn’t a war pending, but if there were, he’d do his duty to the throne.

They wouldn’t have to do much though. Most of the guards hated being bored, so many of them kept up their training as if they expected a war. Some even trained in new fighting, strategy, and defense techniques. The guards that didn’t go that route would appreciate any new tasks ahead of them. They’d relish in being something more than glorified gargoyles.

“Hey, Breda,” he said.

Breda looked up from his book. “Isn’t it your lunch break too? I thought you were going to go to the east city and try to get a date.”

Havoc sighed. “I was going to, but we’ve been summoned so that will have to wait.”

“Duty is cockblocking you now too?” Breda said and took his feet off his desk. He popped the last of his sandwich in his mouth and set down his book.

“Too?”

Breda stood and started putting on his jacket. “Anytime Prince Mustang summons us it’s usually—”

“Not Prince Mustang,” Havoc said.                    

Breda paused in his actions. “Oh?” he said hesitantly. Havoc understood the reaction. Usually they were summoned to help Prince Mustang do something. That something was usually a task that would cause the king a mini aneurysm.

“Then…”

“We’ve been summoned by the king.”

**-/-/-**

Havoc would’ve done almost anything for one of those human cigarettes right now. If he ever died was reincarnated as a human, he would make sure to smoke hundreds of them before he died. He probably wouldn’t be the healthiest of humans—sucking smoke into your lungs could in no way be good for you—but he’d be happy and calm.   

The guards at the castle’s main doorway saluted them as they walked past and entered the main corridor. They turned down the right hall. They made their way to where King Kaiten was likely located this time of day.

He glanced at Breda. Though having the appearance of an officer about to attend a formal event, he knew that wasn’t the case inside his friend’s head. He’d gone pallid when given the news about who was summoning them.

It wasn’t because the king was a tyrant or warmonger. The man rarely lost his temper and some even accused him of being too lenient or kind to be a king. King Kaiten deliberately set out to be a different king than his father was. As a result, he attempted to raise his kids to be kind and not take anything or anyone for granted. Based on the way the princes and princesses were, he was half-successful at least. He probably would've been more so if their mother hadn't influenced them. That was especially true for Prince Mustang.

The main reason behind the nervousness was the simple fact that they were guards under the rank of colonel being summoned directly by the king.

“Do you know what we’re being summoned about?” Breda asked, interrupting Havoc’s pondering.

“No,” Havoc said. “I figure it’s something to do with Prince Mustang since we’re around him a lot. Either something he’s already done, something the king thinks he’s going to do, or something the king wants him to do.”

“All of those are good possibilities. I would go with the last one if I were making a bet.”

Havoc nodded. Though they kept up a good public front, everyone that’d resided in or roamed the castle on a regular basis knew the prince and king did not see eye-to-eye. Mustang’s pedagogies, which consisted of fucking through his list of females and drinking rare types of alcohol, were the main points of contention between the two.  

Havoc knew there was more to Mustang than his debauchery. He had the potential to be a king even greater than Kaiten if he could be whipped into shape. Whenever the prince was placed into an official capacity, he excelled.

They approached the throne room and moved towards the black double doors. Two guards stepped in front of them.

“Stand down,” Breda said to the lower ranked guards. “King Kaiten has requested us.”

“Yes, sir,” they both said.

The one on the right spoke next. "The king now stays in his private office on the weekends, sirs. He told us that you were to meet him there."

**-/-/-**

 

When they got to King Kaiten’s rooms, Breda lifted his hand to knock on the door, but a voice bade them to enter before he could make contact with the wood. He opened the door to an immaculate, and empty, office.

“We did hear him, right?” Havoc asked. 

“In here,” the king yelled from an adjoining room. “Lock the door and come in here.”

 They did as instructed and followed the king's voice into another room.

This room was the opposite of the office in appearance. Piles of books were stacked on the floor, some of them taller than he was. Though there were shelves, there was nothing on them. Boxes of jewelry were on the floor, shining and glittering in the room’s bright lights. They were organized by type. Necklaces in one row, bracelets, tiaras, and other accoutrements in other rows. All of them were encased in velvet containers that looked nearly as expensive as the pieces they held.

King Kaiten looked up at Havoc from his cross-legged position on the floor. "Do angels like silver or gold better?"

“I assume it’s based on individual taste, sir," Havoc said.

The King nodded and closed a few of the boxes. "Of course, I should’ve realized. I'll just use them all. I have no use for them anyway. How about food? Do they eat meat?”

“Yes, sir, angels eat the same things demons do,” Havoc replied, his confusion growing.

“Sir, if I may ask, why are you concerned about angel tastes?” Breda said.  

“Is that why you summoned us here?” Havoc asked.

“Ah, that’s right. I have an assignment for you.” King Kaiten got to his feet and dusted off his long burgundy tunic. He smiled at them, the corner of his dark eyes crinkling with laugh lines. "Do you know where my son is or where he would likely be right now?"

"We don't know where he is, but I'm sure we can find him."

"I want you to go get him and bring him here. You are going to be reassigned to guard him and make sure he behaves in the upcoming months.”

“Behave?” Havoc and Breda both said.

“You are to make sure he doesn’t touch another demoness using whatever methods you deem fit.” King Kaiten gave a long-suffering sigh. “The prince’s fiancée will be arriving soon, and I don’t want her to be greeted by a degenerate crown prince.”  

“May I speak freely, your majesty?” Havoc asked.

“Yes, yes of course,” he said.

“I wasn’t aware the prince was engaged. I thought that sort of thing would be publically announced first.”

“Traditionally it is, but that was only for my father to be an asshole and gain support. Weddings are a good way to keep people on your side.”

“So his engagement won’t be announced?” Breda asked.

“It will,” the king replied, “but I figure rumors will get out first so then people won’t be surprised when the announcement is made. Granted, we have to be delicate about it.”

“I’m surprised Prince Mustang hasn’t thrown a fit yet,” Breda said.

The king picked up a few of the jewelry boxes and set them in a bigger box on a table. “This situation is unique.” He picked up a box with a diamond hair comb in it and looked at it.

 “Your highness, you mentioned an angel,” Breda said.

“Perceptive as always, Breda,” he said. “She’s an angel princess.”

“Oh,” Havoc and Breda said as they came to the realization at the same time. “Oh, shit.”

“Your reactions aren’t the most eloquent, but I can only hope for a similar one from my son.”

“Does this have to do with the Pact of Belair?” Breda asked. “I don’t know much about it, but with the way traditional pacts go, marriage is usually part of the deal not spoken about.”

“That’s right.”

“So the prince doesn’t know?” Havoc asked, the dread heavy in his stomach.

“No, but I’ve tried to hint at him about marriage and taking the throne. He gives those one-word answers of his or ignores it entirely. He’s been avoiding me recently.”

Havoc nodded. That explained why the prince had been spending more time away from the castle and increased his alcohol consumption.

“But why the jewels?”

The king gave them a pitiful look. “The poor young angel has to marry Prince Mustang,” he said. “I’m getting these for her as a… What’s the word I’m looking for?”

“You want to bribe the hell out of her?”

“Bribe? No, not at all,” he said. “She’s not an inanimate object as much as this treaty treats her and my son as such. I just want to make things nicer for her since she’s away from home. Perhaps placate would be a better word. Or comfort. Though, she‘s much easier going than Prince Mustang from what I’ve heard. She accepted the marriage as a duty.”

“We’ll find Prince Mustang,” Breda said.

The king nodded and went back to his jewelry packing.

Breda and Havoc walked to the door. Breda exited but Havoc stopped and turned around. “Your Majesty?” The king looked up in response. “An ample allowance might be in order as well. You know, considering she’ll need—”

"Being a part of our family will ensure that she’ll have ample wealth for herself.”

Havoc nodded and left the room. With a lot of money, perhaps the poor princess, whichever one it was, would be able to have some freedom after this was forced on her. 

Breda was waiting in the hallway. "This isn't going to go well."

"No," Havoc said, yet again craving a cigarette, "I don't believe it is."


End file.
